A Ribbon's Rainbow
by The Shadowed Artist
Summary: Sometimes, you toss the ribbon to the sky and watch it arc through the clouds, far away from the horrors earth can hold in its depths. But, as every ham-human knows, there just may be a pot of gold waiting at he end of the spectrum. Ham-human AU
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Voila! My second fanfic for all to read! God. . . I remember loving those cuddly little hamsters when I was younger (while Cartoon Network was still showing it). I must make this tribute to them a good one, I must! Wish me luck!

--

"YEAH SANDY! YOU SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE!!"

"Sandy-ookwee! Sandy-ookwee!"

"Pleeze do your best, Sandy!"

Perched high atop the carefully linked pedestal of cheerleaders was _definitely_ a most precarious position for Sandra T. Hepburn. Though no one ever called her that. To the student body she had always been Sandy, master of all things sporty. Star soccer goalie (nicknamed, 'The Rose-Brick Wall), basketball's top-scoring forward, the softball base-snatcher of choice, you name it and Sandy's modestly printed name would be shoved right at the tip of every tryout list in Hampston High's existence. As of now, being the head cheerleader of the high school's award-winning squad was an honor the auburn-streaked blonde had been shooting for since her awkward freshman year (coincidentally, she was only a sophomore). It was the perfect way to put her gymnastic skills to the ultimate test.

_Don't lock up, stay loose Sandy, stay loose. The girls are down there rooting for you!_

Blowing out a controlled wisp of air, Sandy bent her knees, arms spread out like the graceful wings of a ballerina. The calm thinness of her pink lips denied any surges of fear in the back of her mind as she balanced on the platform Barrette was providing for her. It was her famous 'Oh yeah, I've got this routine whipped', look. Well. . . that's what Pashmina always told her.

_Now leap!_

The background music swept into a dreamy, drawn out cord immediately after she sprung from the tower of cheerleaders, soaring over the gym floor. Her layered ponytail whipped through the air in suspended animation and her friends held their breath as she tucked into a backwards somersault. Their bouncing fists climbed to the sky as she flipped a full circle and unwound into a L, landing safely in the waiting hands of male cheerleaders, Howdy and Cappy.

Only a second later, the net weaved from their arms propelled Sandy back into the routine's line of fire. In response, she whirled into a quick front-flip and thrust her legs out from under her crimson red skirt.

"GOOOO SANDY!!" the audience in the bleachers. . . heh. . . _cheered_, the small sea of limbs breaking into one last crested wave.

A smirk perked at Sandy's mouth and she landed the split dead center. Already adjusted from their previous resemblance of stacked cards, the rest of the girls coursed outwards into two lines, one on Sandy's left, and one on Sandy's right. Each one stuck a unique pose in turn, flashing smiles so dazzling they blinded any male passerby. The music slammed one final note once the last cheerleader

posed. If this had been a _real_ competition, fireworks would have exploded upon the stage. Nope, no fireworks for practice sessions, but the audience burst into deafening whoops anyway.

"WOOHOO!! YEEAAAH!!" Pashmina shrieked from the stands, her voice rising louder then everyone else as she hopped out of her seat and pumped two enthusiastic fists into the air.

Sandy smiled and straightened up, the other cheerleaders following suit. She stuffed a few fingers into her mouth and whistled shrilly, signaling the audience to quiet down and her subordinates to crowd around for the announcement of their next practice.

Sandy wiped a few dollops of sweat from her forehead. "Great job guys! With this routine we'll be sure to kill the competition in a few weeks." She shook her head in confirmation at the heavily panting girls. "Next practice is on Wednesday at 3:30. Try to be there!"

The sporty girl dismissed them with the wave of her hand. After most scuttled to the locker room, she sighed and stretched her sore abdomen, then strolled over to meet her friends in the bleachers.

Bijou giggled and clapped her hands in praise at Sandy's arrival. Pashmina's 'little sister', Penelope waddled up to the cheerleader and cutely thrust out her hand, which was holding a half-empty bottle of mineral water. Sandy gratefully swiped it up and took a few swigs of the flavored liquid. She gulped and wiped her mouth, now playfully eye-balling Pashmina.

"Wow! What a kick butt performance! I wish I could do that. . ." Pashmina gushed, stars sparkling in her eyes.

"Got a little excited back there, didn't we Pashy?" Sandy teased.

The normally mature girl blushed and buried her face in her pink scarf. Penelope wondered what was wrong with her sister and tugged curiously on the cuff of her jeans.

"Pashy-ookyoo?"

"Heheh. . . riiiiight. . ." Pashmina laughed nervously. She smiled at the little girl, her cheeks still a shade of rosy tomato. Bijou laughed into her wrist, always entertained by her friend's usual antics.

"I don't see how though. My landing was _God awful_ an-"

"-Oh hush, Sandy. You were wonderful! Back in France, I never saw anyone as graceful in performance as you," Bijou interrupted. She twirled a snow-white pigtail around her finger and beamed.

Sandy sighed in disappointment with herself but managed to return a half-smile to the pretty french exchange student. She was just so. . . so easy to smile at. Ever since Bijou had arrived, boys had flocked to her like robins to a peanut butter pine-cone. She was so sweet and innocent with her petite stature and crystal colored ponytails. Not to mention that adorable accent and foreign lolita appeal. However, despite her popularity, Bijou never returned the affection to any of the boys who pined after her. Sandy only wished she could pluck one of those blue satin ribbons from Bijou's hair, entwine it with her own red ribbon, and somehow have that magnetic personality melt on to her.

Sandy was cut off from her thoughts at the sight of a cleanly dressed Howdy sashaying past her, right up to Pashmina.

"Aye think that the bee-u-ti-ful Pashmina right here thought my performance was quite attractive. Ain't that righ, Pashmina?" Howdy set one foot on the bleachers and grinned hopefully (more like sleazily. . .) up at the blonde.

Pashmina crinkled her nose. "Yeah, yeah, Howdy. . . you just keep telling yourself that. . ." She trailed off when he plopped down next to her and scooted so close she could smell the leftover cafeteria steak on his breath. The blonde frowned in annoyance and switched to the other side of Bijou.

"Awww, com' on! Didn't ya at least think ma _army _net was a good tactic for throwing Sandy here?" he whined, pointing almost accusingly at the cross-armed Sandra.

Silence.

"Haha! Ya get it? ARMy net?"

_Cricket. Cricket._

A cruel vacuum sucked the humor right out of his features.

". . . anyone?"

Dead as a graveyard. A stifled giggle erupted from Hana in the throng of cheerleaders.

Howdy felt like a barbell just plummeted through his skull.

"Awww. . ." he said dejectedly. Sandy could have sworn the world's smallest violin was stringing a weeping requiem in the background. Howdy slumped in his seat, failing to notice the girls as they gradually inched away from him.

Sandy blinked. Too late to ask for the last two minutes of her life back. "Anyways. . ." She suddenly snapped her fingers, surprising her friends from space-cadet land. "-what we really need is a mascot!"

"You mean someone to wear that moldy. . . nasty. . . cobwebby (for lack of better words), hamster head?" Pashmina muttered, shuddering with disgust at the stuffy old piece of plastic. By now Penelope had become bored because she had no idea what the older girls were talking about. Young and still up for nap time, she had settled her nose into the fabric of Pashmina's pleated overskirt, uttering a squeaky snore every once in a while.

"But Sandy, areen't you competent enough on your own?" Bijou was already so impressed with the brunette, she couldn't even begin to fathom why the team needed some weirdo running around in a corny animal suit.

Sandy tilted her pointer finger in a jabbing manner. "You may think that Bijou, but a mascot is an important asset to any team. They keep the crowd pumped for the cheerleader's routine. Their the comic relief to any serious game." She paused, but couldn't help but snort. "Plus, they don't give a crap if you make fun of them. Their supposed to act like idiots who missed the halloween deadline."

Bijou smacked her hands together. "Speeking of Halloween, what iz zee theme this year? I hear so many people talking about eet."

Pashmina bent over and rubbed the slumbering Penelope's hair affectionately. "It's _supposed _to be a masquerade. You know, where everyone hides their identity with a mask and stuff? I bet the dance committee ripped it off of Phantom of the Opera."

"They really aren't known for their creativity." Sandy added insult to injury. The committee was full of wealthy, snot-nosed preps who weaseled their way into every position that mattered. Socially, anyway. But she would NEVER say that out loud in real life, or said snot-nosed preps on the cheerleading team would eat her alive, picking their teeth with platinum toothpicks. Sandy _did_ have a good reputation to maintain.

"Do you need a date to attend?" Bijou asked.

"No way! There'd be no point in it. After all, the whole _premise _of a masquerade is to make your face a mystery to the boys your dancing with." Pashmina stood up and flexed the stiff muscles in her legs. She gently nudged Penelope with her foot and the dark brunette sniffled and awoke unwillingly. Penelope attempted to wiggle out of the butt-trap she had squeezed herself into.

Sandy rolled her eyes. "But it's always so easy to tell who everyone is, even _with _a mask. Why can't they just make it a boring, old, regular dance if that's the case?" She hiked her thumb over her shoulder at Howdy. "Like Mr. Lame-o Hick over there. Him an' the King of Nerds could tell that Pashmina was the pink pop-star the moment she walked in. They spent the whole time fighting over who got to fetch her a zillion glasses of punch. It was annoying as hell."

Bijou didn't seem at all fazed at the cold-hard facts being shoved right in her face. Sometimes Sandy started to believe France was a breeding ground for cutesy little man-chasers. Either that, or the noir-painted girl was too stubborn to believe that her true love _wasn't _waiting down the hallway and around the corner. Hey, even if her Romeo lived in the janitor's closet, Sandy was positive Bijou would snatch him up for all he was. On the other hand, what Bijou's type was proved to be a total blanko for the athletic cheerleader.

"King of Nerds?" Bijou repeated innocently.

"Dexter."

"Oh," The circular button of Bijou's lips froze in place, her mind delving through who knew _what _kind of thoughts. Pashmina had dug Penelope out of her pitfall, carefully lowering her tiny feet onto the gym floor. A squeak of drowsy air whistled out of Penelope's nose and she squinted. Pashmina realized that Penelope, whom she had the responsibility of baby-sitting once again, would probably collapse into a nesting yellow puddle if she didn't bring her home right away.

"Umm, I think I'd better go guys, or Penelope's gonna be using your pom-pom as a pillow. Call me!" Pashmina dangled her hands like a phone next to her ear and grabbed Penelope's hand. She steered the little girl by the sleeve of her poncho out the rattling gym doors, cutting past Cappy and their gym teacher, Boss, along the way. By now the gym had become nearly deserted. All of the male and female cheerleaders had caught their rides home, the room losing the charm of constantly chiming cell phones.

Bijou slid off the bleachers and sighed the most desperate and yearning sigh Sandy had ever heard. "I know it sounds lieek I am searching for someone that doeseen't even exist, but I have a feeling that sometheeng very special will happen on Halloween." She giggled, but it lacked any real humor. "I sound really patheteec, don't I. . ."

Sympathy for Bijou wormed it's way into Sandy's own heart, almost like she herself was the one on a quest for Mr. Right. She slapped a reassuring hand on Bijou's shoulder, startling the french girl.

"Don't you dare say that! Some day, the guy who's just right for you will march straight up and give you a big, cheesy, smooch smack on the lips, and then you'll know he's the one you've been waiting for. Intuition, my friend, intuition!" Sandy was completely joking about the kissing part, but what the heck? If the words were encouraging, then Bijou could take them so seriously that she would walk with a neon sign flashing 'Free love-dove: Boys Only'. . . if she wanted too. . .

Sandy snickered under her breath.

Bijou grinned like she was itching to spew out a fit of giggles. She did a sort of partial sneeze, stopped, then burst into a period of mad laughter.

"Ah-hahahaha z-zat's so stupeed!" She snorted in a very unladylike manner, several tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. "L-Lieek that would ever

happeen!" Sandy only watched the smaller girl with total bewilderment as if she had grown a chicken's head and started spouting 'The sky is falling! The sky is falling!'

"Aaaaah!" Her tremors died down and she drew away the salty tears with a few swipes of her hands. "You are so very funny Sandy!" She happily brushed a few nonexistent dust particles from her jean skirt and locked her palms together behind her back. She cheerfully danced in a curve around Sandy on the pads of her feet.

"Well, are we headeeng out or not? My mother asked me to prepare deener tonight." She heartily tossed a sky blue cell phone out of her pocket and held it up.

Sandy gathered up her water bottle and gym bag. "I've gotta go change first, but I'll meet you outside, 'kay?" She headed to the locker room.

Bijou nodded and skip-stepped towards Boss and Cappy, who seemed to be chatting up a storm. Bijou guessed it was probably something manly like camping, with all the sweat and grease involved. Cooking over a steaming fire, being picked to the bone by mosquitos, stabbing rabbits with wooden knives. . . camping was manly, right?

"Boss, thank you very much for letteeng zee cheer squad use zee gym!" She sang as she bounded lightly next to them towards the exit. Boss split his conversation with Cappy, hypnotized by the irresistibly cute student as she waved at them before disappearing out the door.

"Eeerr. . ." He tugged profusely at the collar of his stained shirt. "Y-Your welcome. . ." He managed to reply, but Bijou was already gone.

"Yo! Capernett S!" Cappy jumped at the sound of his full name and whirled around to find Sandy arriving from the locker room dressed in a floral printed tank-top and athletic shorts.

She winked at him. "You did a pretty darn good job out there today."

The shy freshman flushed deeply at her comment and fiddled with the brim of his green baseball cap. "Th-Thanks Sandy. . ." He shuffled near Boss, their cheeks sporting identical scarlet hues.

Sandy pushed against the door's metal lever. "See you 'round guys. Keep up the excellent work!" she called back to them, vanishing through the blinding sunlight. The rusty bang of metal slammed resoundingly behind her.

"That Cappy's one strong little bugger. . . he'll be the perfect trump card at the competition. . ." Sandy muttered to herself as she came upon Bijou, who was absentmindedly swinging her legs while sitting on the stone lining of the entrance pathway.

Just as Sandy caught up with the french girl, Bijou's ride slid to the front of the parking lot with a sleekly calm hum. Bijou tossed a goodbye smile at Sandy and went over and plopped into the quietly whirring porsche. It wheeled out of the school premises, leaving behind only a swirling cloud of exhaust in its wake.

Sandy smiled sadly at the rustling autumn trees and ran a sweaty hand through her highlighted ponytail. She waited there for a moment, then swung her bag over her shoulder and started on home.

"Boys, huh?"

_There's only one boy I would like to see again. _

Sandy's gaze was glued to the sidewalk. Sure, the sun was shining, the flowers were mingling beautifully with the breeze, people who passed by granted her 'the friendly stranger' look. Everything was fine and dandy for Sandy, even the poor little pebble she was having the pleasure of kicking through the hedges. Yep, the beginning of that stupid phrase even rhymed, Sandy mused.

"Where'd you go?" She said rhetorically to a chirping squirrel. It skittered in front of her up the trunk a wilting crab-apple tree. She had seen several of those dyeing plants on her way back home, and Sandy mulled over how so many had already lost their leaves. It was depressing really, all the metaphoric sadness hanging over her like a plague. Sandy was a generally optimistic person, but thoughts and dreams of a certain someone had been dunking her underwater lately.

_Twirling, whirling, 'round we go_

_Twirling high and twirling low._

_See the colors skip and flow,_

_Twirling 'round we go._

_Twirling, whirling, 'round we go_

_Twirling high and twirling low._

_See the ribbons as they blow. . ._

"Twirling 'round we go. . ." Sandy whispered.

_My brother. . .Stan, come back._

_Come back home, where you belong._

_--_--

How'd it go? And yes, I decided to omit Sandy's valley girl accent from the english version because I felt it wasn't really necessary to her character. But I did include Bijou's french accent and Howdy's southern accent (so be satisfied!)

To clear up any confusion, since that hamsters are human in this story (and in a modern setting), I gave the ones who didn't have regular names a full name based on their hamster name (but the characters in the story will almost always call each other by their 'nicknames'). Here's the guide so far:

Cappy- Capernett Sanderson

Sandy- Sandra T. Hepburn

Stan- Stanley T. Hepburn

Howdy- Harold Bailey

Boss- Bruce Bullock (the last name will probably never be mentioned)

Dexter- Dexter Compton (same here)

Bijou- Bijou Rousseau

Pashmina- Pashmina Valentine (called 'Pashy' for short by Penelope)

Penelope- Penelope Owens

More character names will be revealed in due time! The Twirling song is from episode 27 of the anime. Instead of ONLY saying ookwee and ookyoo, I changed Penelope's speaking problem to saying them at the end of sentences (like naruto and 'dattebayo'). Suggestions and criticism appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Oh deary, dear! Exams are coming my way! -gasps- I must study. . . but I will update, I swear!

**To the Reviewers:**

**Ruler of Fanfiction- **Yeah I know, it stinks how low the activity has become. . . thanks for following along, I promise you won't be disappointed.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hamtaro. . . yeah. . .

--

_BRIIIIIING!!_

The sound of the shrill phone ringing blasted through Sandy's ears like a gun-shot and she bolted from bed. Mentally smacking herself for leaving it on the night-stand after chatting with Sparkle the previous day, her hands groped through the darkness, searching for the screaming lump of plastic.

Her fingernails scraped along what felt like a a half-empty tissue box and a crumpled Snicker's wrapper before finally clasping upon the shuddering object of displeasure. Sandy fumbled in the shadows, almost dropping it, but caught the phone with a sigh of relief and placed it near her ear like the classic, monotonous, telephone operator.

"It's 4:00 in the freaking morning! Who the hell is it?!" the fire-breathing dragon spewed into the phone. Sandy was _not _a morning person.

"Pashmina!" came the infuriatingly cheery reply.

"What do you want, you morning person she-devil?! My ears, they bleed! They bleed dangit!"

"Did you forget to hang up the phone again?" Sandy could sense the smirk in Pashmina's voice.

"Did not.," Sandy said defiantly.

You _so _did."

"Did not!

"Did so!"

"Did not!!"

"Did so! Did so! Did so!" Pashmina sang.

"Di-. . . why are we arguing about hanging up phones anyway?"

"I dunno. . ." Pashmina paused, going into a long, dumb, silence.

Sandy let out a breath of exasperation and resorted to examining her whitened cuticles. The red nail-polish was almost completely peeled off.

". . . did so."

Groaning at the ceiling, Sandy barrel-rolled onto her belly, head-butting the nearest convenient feather pillow. She twisted her legs around the rumpled covers in agony from lack of sleep, her thumb hovering menacingly over the phone's off button.

_Calm yourself Sandy. . . it's only a phone call. Pashmina must have something important to say or she wouldn't have rung you up at 4:00 in the morning. . . breath deep and count to ten. . . 1, 2, 3 ,4 ,5. . . gah! I hate math!!_

"Raaaar!" Sandy snarled into the phone, but it lacked the seriousness she had hoped to convey through Pashmina's hopelessly hollow skull due to it's transference through a the cuddly, plush hamster she always slept with. God, she was even more of a baby than Penelope, and Penelope still sucked her thumb when Pashmina wasn't looking!

"I think somebody's a little cranky-wanky this morning!" Pashmina bubbled.

"Well you would be too if someone dialed your number in the middle of the night without any speck of decency!"

"Speck of decency? I have a whole truckload of decency, thank you very much!"

Sandy squeezed the plush toy's head so tightly, she realized the poor thing would have probably suffocated by now if it weren't a product of corporate China. Releasing it along with her boiling frustration, a wisp of black air flowed out of her throat calmly and she patted the toy in apology. No need to build up tension when she hadn't even taken a shower yet.

"Huuuh. . . I don't know. . . maybe I am being a bit of a sourpuss." She smiled at the prowling tigers on her PJ's. "Sorry Pashy."

"S' alright, Sandy. . . I guess it was kinda stupid of me to call you at 4:00 in the morning. . . but I told you and Bijou to ring me up yesterday! Bijou did, but it was very upsetting when my dearest friend Sandy didn't even give it a second thought!"

A vague flashback of Pashmina's request in the gym pinged in Sandy's mind, but it also mingled with another memory. Thinking about her missing brother Stan had wiped Sandy's memory of other commitments totally blank. Sandy knew that _probably_ wasn't a valid excuse for ditching Pashmina.

"I sorta. . . kinda. . . forgot on the way home. . ." Sandy spoke, sheepishly gritting her teeth.

"Awww, does big, bad Sandy feel guilty for wittle old me? I'm touched," Pashmina cooed, and Sandy just knew she was holding a flowery hand over her chest with mock-sadness. "But really, it's okay. I only wanted to ask what you were going to be for Halloween. So, what is it?"

Sandy opened her mouth like she had an easy answer dangling on the tip of her tongue. It hung there with hope, but the pixie of embarrassing, evil. . . things, slowly flitted right back down her wind-pipe, and she choked. What was Sandy being for Halloween again?

"Uhhh. . . a zombie cheerleader?"

Pashmina huffed, probably shaking her head in disapproval near the reciever. "How much more unoriginal could you get? Now, now, Sandy, tell me what your _really _dressing up as."

Sandy racked her brain for answers, but nothing acceptable came up.

_Come on, think, THINK. Can't sound like a dumbbell in front of Pashmina. . . stupid brain! Why don't you give me answers when I need them! Like on algebra tests . . . Maybe it would be good time to just haaang up the phone. . . _

Her gaze flicked urgently to the receiver, her eyes floating back to it every time she forced them away. Luckily, Pashmina intervened before Sandy could shut her out in one desperate slam of the phone.

"Ooooh, I see! Miss 'I kinda forget everything', _forgot _to think of a costume. Tsk, tsk, Sandy, and I thought you were artistic!"

"N-No. . . I. . . I just can't remember what it was right now. . ." Sandy blubbered in defense.

Wait. Sandy wanted to shove her palm into her forehead so hard it left a permanent brand of her utter stupidity. She had _supported_ Pashmina's argument with her comment about forgetting. _Again._

"My lovely Sandy-kins, you know you can't lie to Mother Pashmina! Admit it hun. Your stuck between a rock and a bad place without a costume idea!"

Sandy whined with exaggerated pain. Pashmina was at it again. Ever since Sandy had become close with the older blonde, she had quickly found out that Pashmina was like one of those doting mothers from a sitcom. She was an amazing cook, a miracle worker with little kids, and fashionable to boot, but she would chuckle furiously about her children behind their backs every time she found out they did something that reminded her of herself when she was young.

"Okay, fine, I _forgot _to get a costume. Besides, it's not like a pop-star was anything special or interesting," Sandy scoffed.

"Sandy, you wound me! _I told you_, I was a Pop-star-fighter-princess-ballerina who could tango like a monkey. Get it right, Sandy-kins!"

"Yeah. . . well. . . are you gonna help me or are you gonna continue pretending I still wear diapers and listen to 'Old Macdonald had a freakin' farm'?"

"E-I-E-I-Oooo!" Pashmina chimed with an opera rumble at the end.

"Ugh. . ." Sandy massaged her temples vigorously, trying to smother out the extreme annoyance pricking her insides.

"However, I do praise you Sandy-kins for last year's Halloween disguise."

Sandy couldn't help but grin into the phone with triumph. "See? Even _you _have to admit that my dwarf costume from Snow White was genius."

"Genius?" Pashmina echoed. Sandy leaned forward in anticipation, waiting to prove that she had defeated Pashmina in the _Creative Mojo _category.

_Ha-ha! Take that!_

Pashmina burst out laughing and Sandy leaned away from the incessant rasping she caused the phone to cough out.

"Y-Yeah genius! Right up until Penelope managed to break the point off one of your model-magic earlobes! We arrived at the dance and you-you started running around the gym like a maniac, screaming "Look at me! I'm Vincent Van Gogh!"

Unable to contain herself, Pasmina howled with laughter, spurring even more sharp rasps from the quivering phone. Sandy, despite the fact that there was no one else in the dull, buzzing room, covered her face in shame.

"A-And, to top it all off, e-everyone _immediately _stared at Bijou because they thought _she _was the one who drove you to insanity with her 'freaky' french customs! E-Except. . . except Vincent Van Gogh is _Dutch! _BWAHAHAHA!!"

Yep. Pashmina was irrefutably and undeniably _a spaz_.

Sandy inched further under the bed covers as if they would protect her from the crazy girl on the other side of the dreaded phone line. She sighed, the sandman's curse beginning to blanket her with it's magical eyelid-drooping powder.

"I would help you Sandy." Pashmina suddenly broke out of her laughter, sounding completely serious.

Sandy sifted in and out of dreamland, barely hearing Pashmina. Her eye's widened slightly in shock at the abrupt change in the older girl's tone.

"But I'm sick. I caught the flu from Penelope so. . . I won't be at school today."

Sandy gaped.

". . ."

"Like bull, you are! Your chipper as a bumble bee!"

Pashmina just laughed and hung up, a simple click finishing their very strange conversation.

Sandy 'hmph-ed' and slung the phone back on the receiver. She shuffled under the blankets in attempt to get comfortable, folding her arms behind her head and settling them onto the soft pillow.

And then the revelation van swerved from its highway and rammed her over, leaving the bloody ideas strewn all across her consciousness.

--

Sandy bored a penetrating stare through her vinyl lunch tray.

Today hadn't been such a wonderful day for the hapless cheerleader. Pashmina was a junior, so she wouldn't be in Sandy's classes anyway, but they had a habit of meeting up in the hallway between classes and gossiping about the newest events that went on. Bijou only attended Art and English with Sandy, leaving her to wallow in the cold rain of loneliness in the ever-dragging biology class, and to roast in the pits of Hades when she had to brace herself for Mixed Mathematics (she had no clue why it was called that, considering it pretty much included only Algebra and Geometry). Sandy really did despise mathematics so very much, and wished they could explode into a billion pieces after being bombarded by nuclear bombs and tossed into a violent wood-chipper. She had _nobody _to talk to in that demonic course. _NO-BO-DY_. Her group was half-composed of book-smart nerds, and the other half consisted of emos who only served to make the class that much more depressing, and a couple brutish jocks who hooted and flirted at her _just _because she was a cheerleader. Sandy stuck out her tongue in distaste at no one in particular.

"Hey Sandy, move. Your holding up the line," the boy in front of her spoke, causing her neck to snap upward in surprise. He chose to ignore her open-mouthed expression and beckoned in a mildly friendly manner. She nodded and flushed, scrambling along the line.

After she grabbed her chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and daily slab of cornbread, Sandy moved away from the crowds of hungry students and scanned the lunchroom for the table of the day.

Sandy blinked. "Oh great. . ." she moaned as more students homed straight in on their usual seats.

Being a junior, Pashmina had more school privileges and thus arrived earlier than Sandy and Bijou, so she was always the one who saved them seats at a nice table. But much to Sandy's repeated chagrin, Pashmina _wasn't here _today, so all their regular spots were taken by the largely intimidating seniors. It _also _didn't help matters that Bijou was nowhere to be found, and had been summoned to the main office prior to lunch period, almost certainly for some other lecture about the American school functions. Sandy briefly contemplated sitting at the cheerleader's table, but thought better of it, not really in the mood to listen to arousing choruses of "So cuuuuttteee!!" and "I like, totally love him" from her subordinates. Amazed? Sandy liked feminine things, but she put her foot down when conversations drifted too far above the surface and all started sounding exactly the same (which described some of her fellow cheerleaders quite nicely). Actually, Sandy could sit anywhere she wanted, having the title of head cheerleader, but she valued appreciation for her personality way more than her appearance. It looked like her options had run out.

"Hey you! Come sit with us!" A tomboyish voice yelled from the left wing of the cafeteria.

Sandy jumped, head spinning back and forth to find the source of the shout. She floundered around jerkily for a moment before her searching gaze landed on the speaker in question and she pointed incredulously at herself.

A pumpkin-faced girl with chocolate brown braids sliced her hand towards her table, evoking Sandy to step forward hesitantly. She swished her ponytail in disbelief, took a deep breath, and journeyed to the foreign table.

Sandy halted, towering over the girl who had invited her, giving her a look that spelled confusion in big bold letters. The brunette smiled, her freckles cutely tickling up her nose.

"You looked a lil' lost out there," she said simply, her smile spreading through her curl-haired eyebrows.

Sandy let out a squeak that sounded like a cross between a giggle and a yelp. Thank the lord in heaven! She resisted the overwhelming urge to walk up and plant a kiss upon the filthy table.

The girl patted the seat next to her invitingly. "Come sit. I don't bite."

Sandy obliged and dropped her tray on the table, easing herself into todays eating environment. She noticed for the first time that there were a few unrecognizable girls wearing baggy white t-shirts and torn jeans, obviously country savvy. She _also _noticed that her very own Cappy from the cheerleading squad had joined the group previously, stabbing his chicken with his fork. Cappy's trademark baseball cap was turned backward so that springy tufts of brown hair were poking out the top of his forehead. He was staring at his chicken like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet.

"I'm Pepper. Nice to meet ya." Pepper held out a friendly hand that Sandy guessed she was supposed to shake. Sandy locked grips with the country-ish girl and felt the roughness of her touch. This was no ordinary suburb dweller.

"Uh, hi. I'm Sandy. Thanks for inviting me to sit with you guys." She grinned at Pepper nervously and swiveled her main focus to her gravy drowned potatoes. Finding that she was suddenly starving, Sandy began stuffing her face.

Pepper quirked an eyebrow at the cheerleader's voracious appetite. She kept eating, and eating, and eating some more. . . that chicken wing didn't stand a chance as Sandy shredded it into miniscule pieces and shoved it asunder in her mouth. Pepper watched her take yet another fleeting snap of corn bread and washing it down with a chug of milk. She chuckled.

"Hmmm, like I thought. You ain't like the rest of 'em," she commented.

Sandy froze in her rabid ingestion of factory by-products, and looked questioningly at Pepper, her cheeks puffed like a chipmunks, munching hungrily. She swallowed it all down in one vulgar gulp, tilting her head to the side.

Pepper gestured her head towards the squealing gaggle of girls at the cheerleader table. "Them gals are a real superficial lot. I can bet a thousand of ma boyfriend's sunflower seeds that they've never been within a mile of a nice, calorie inducin' meal. But your their leader, right?" She flourished her hand over the viciously torn apart contents of Sandy's lunch like she was presenting the final evidence in a Sherlock Homes case. "You must practice till your toes bleed to maintain that twiggy lil' figure of yours." She smirked and poked Sandy's ironing board of a stomach.

Cappy piped up. "Sandy practices her routines to 6:00 at the central park every day." Sandy stared at him, wondering how he had obtained that kind of knowledge and he ducked back to his half-eaten mashed potatoes, bashfully screwing the handle of his spoon through the mushy center.

Sandy returned her gaze to Pepper and shrugged, kind of embarrassed. "Yeah. . . I'm just a big eater. Always have been. My mom tells me all the time that my stomach should have exploded by the time I finished kindergarden. Gives me the energy to build buns like these!" She struck her arm with a muscle-woman pose, then snorted and nudged Pepper in the shoulder with her fist.

Pepper playfully punched her back. "Hey, hey, I got them manly muscles too, but I ain't a squirmy little worm like you Sandy." She proudly thrust her sloping bulge of a belly out under the table.

Sandy took a minute to study Pepper. First of all, there was absolutely nothing skinnyabout her. From head to toe, the country girl had plump layers of flesh snaked with trails of freckles stacked over every nook and cranny of her tanned frame. She wasn't fat, mind you, just round and soft like a newborn puppy. Sandy thought it was actually rather cute how every time Pepper smiled, her thirty-three million freckles prickled and stretched to grin along with her. Pepper was a one-woman flea circus of tiny polka-dots.

Sandy giggled and something else popped into her mind. "So Pepper, you've got a boyfriend?" Sandy said curiously, eager to gab about other subjects now that she felt more comfortable around her companion.

"Yessiree! His name's Oxnard, but I call 'im Oxy. He isn't from around here though," Pepper said sadly.

"Really? That sucks, you must miss him a lot." Sandy frowned sympathetically.

Pepper sighed distantly. "I do, plenty of the time. But he's a good boy and he can survive without me."

"What's he like?"

"Oh he's a big baby. Won't go anywhere without a sack of sunflower seeds to snack on, and craps his pants at anything even remotely scary. I remember the time his buddies managed to convince him to take a ride through the annual haunted house last Halloween. I had ta practically drag him out kicking and screamin' an drive him home like a kid cryin' at a birthday party."

"Wow."

"I know. But he's a giant bumbling teddy bear and always tries to do his best to impress me, which I think is just the cutest thing. Oxy is as sweet and loyal as a sheepdog, and that's why I love 'em," Pepper beamed dreamily and curled her fingers in the yellow sweatshirt around her waist. "Sometimes I pray that he'll surprise that socks off'a me and transfer to Hampston. He hasn't been able to convince his parent's yet."

"That's too bad."

"You got a boyfriend Sandy?"

Sandy shook her head. "It isn't really a large priority for me right now. Plus. . ." She stopped her fork in-between a scoop of mashed potatoes. "There hasn't been a guy that has, you know, leaped out at me. Some are friendly and all. . . but I want someone who'll appreciate me for who _I _am. Not for _what _I am. You get what I mean?" she inquired.

Pepper nodded. "I see." She craned her neck to the ceiling and leaned back on her palms. "Did you have a bad experience in the past or somethin'?"

Sandy's wrist stiffened halfway to her mouth and she slid her fork back on the tray with an aura of melancholy. "It's. . . It's kinda not like that. You see, I actually have a twin brother named Stan, and we were separated by young wedlock when I was only beginning preschool," Sandy disclosed, tapping her fingers on the table. "I guess. . . without him, I've shut out most of the potential boys around me because I only care about him coming home. I haven't seen Stan in eleven years and I never knew why my parents split up and took us to two completely different places. They weren't married, but my mother breaks down in tears every time something reminds her of dad. She refuses to tell me where he moved to, probably because she just doesn't know."

"Did they fight?"

"I don't believe so. Mom was only in high school when she had me and Stan, but she and my dad were too young to get married. By the time they were old enough, it was already too late, and Dad suddenly had to move away before he could tell her he was leaving. I think his parents didn't approve of such a young relationship," Sandy said grimly, attempting to suppress the lump that was growing in her throat as she spilled out her guts to Pepper.

"Man. . . that's terrible!" Pepper could feel the the knife of empathy slicing her heart down its seam for Sandy.

"So far, I've been trying to find some clues as to where Stan vanished to, because that would also lead me to dad in the process," Sandy flicked the edge of her pen to the last gloomy detail of her history. "Nothing," she deadpanned, her eyes vacant in focus. She could see Cappy staring at her from under his green visor.

The light brunette felt a warmly plump hand entwine with her own, thumb brushing over her knuckles consolingly. She looked up to find Pepper's pumpkin face smiling sweetly at her and let out a whimper of astonishment.

"I suppose I can't say I totally understand how you feel, but I _can _say that you should chin up." The darker brunette broadened her already wide shoulders and lifted her chin like a bald-eagles beak. "I'm sure your lost bro is out there somewhere, so don't lose hope. Keep lookin' till the barn owl hoots hello!"

"Barn owl?"

"It's one of those stupid farm jokes. Best to not explain it," Pepper waved her hand in dismissal. Sandy giggled as the breeze from Pepper's hand tickled her bangs along her forehead, feeling slightly better.

_He's out there somewhere._

_--_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I know, I know, Sandy has been the main character so far, but as of now her importance will be downplayed, due to the uncalled for arrival of several other of the Ham-Humans! Yaaaayyy! -please clap with me. . .-

P.S: _Pretty_ long chapter.

**To the Reviewers:**

**CN: **You are absolutely correct! There really is no central plot to this haphazard story, but there are many, MANY, mini-plots that are foreshadowed and jumped upon as it goes along. For example: Stan is missing (and WILL be found), Pepper wants Oxnard to come to her school, Bijou is searching for a man, the cheerleading squad needs a mascot, the Halloween masquerade is coming up, etc. Whew! Plus more. . . basically it's an emotional story about Ham friendship and romance! Thanks for the compliment, I always try to avoid sloppy layout!

**sandyandmaxwellfanatic:** Weeeellll... since you asked so nicely. -smirk-

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_Milk and cereal! Cereal and milk! Don't forget to add the or-ange juice!_

A soft hum issued from Bijou's slender neckline under her crystal blue choker. She had no idea how the silly lyrics had sprung into her cheerfully abound mood, but they only served to make the song that much more enchanting and rich to the gorgeously dazzling morning surrounding her as she skipped to school.

With grace and agility, a daring monarch butterfly zipped across Bijou's isolated path, flapping its wings furiously as it orbited around her shiningly beautiful scenery. Bijou held out a long finger and it landed primly on the tip, beating its appendages gently without flying away.

"Hello, lovely leettle butterfly! How are you on this fine morneeng?" Bijou greeted to the migrating insect. It flicked its spiral antennas with a hint of attitude, certainly the butterfly version of a peace sign. The monarch tickled the webbing of her hands with a paper-thin foot as if to ask her the same question.

Bijou giggled into her free hand. "I am wonderful. Thank you for askeeng, Mr. Butterfly!" It clamped its claw-like mouth together a few times, laughing with her. The sun reflected off its painted, gossamer wings and Bijou happily drank in the pretty sight through her baby-blue irises.

The french girl skipped further along the sidewalk, excited that she was already halfway to school and it was only 7:00. That meant more chatty, less work, work, worky! Surprisingly, the monarch butterfly had ridden with her right from the beginning of her daily adventure, possessively latching its six legs onto her dainty little finger like it was a birch-white tree limb.

Bijou slowed her skipping to a more comfortable tromping stride. A whispering breeze had risen to the sky a moment ago and it was pulling the trembling monarch from its chosen favorite perch. The small creature hugged tightly to her hand, unwilling to let go and be on its way.

She danced to a stop on one toe, looking with concern at the stubborn insect. "I think you had better go, Mr. Butterfly. Your friends must mees you already." Bijou reached her forearm to the clouds with the precarious stance of a gentle lark, willing the butterfly away. It flicked its wings expectantly, ready to take off.

"So lo-"

"WATCH OUT!!!"

The butterfly rocketed out of sight, frightened greatly by the sudden noise. Bijou spun around and was, to her rotten luck, shocked out of her wits at what happened next.

Racing down the path at a speed that could rival a race-car on petroleum steroids, was a boy who had no initiative to halt in his tracks. He crashed with the power of a billion stampeding cattle into Bijou. The force knocked her feet straight out from under her, and they plummeted to the waiting concrete.

"WHOA!!!"

Time seemed to move at a slugs pace as the pair fell to their side-walk fate. Bijou opened her mouth wide.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- mph!"

Bijou, as you know, was never one to get dirty if she had the means to avoid it. She had a strong belief in common sense, whether it be hopping over mud puddles or avoiding mystery meat on Thursdays. But for some reason, common sense had failed to shove the random boy with his LIPS glued to hers to his well-deserved destiny in the dog poo stinking it up a foot away from her ear. Oh, heavens no. 'We can't allow Bijou to retain her dignity', says common sense.

_O-Oh my. . ._

The supreme mortification passing through the boy's eyes that leaped to his electric citrus hair would forever be etched in Bijou's memory. Faces frozen together for what seemed like a decade, Bijou's heart accelerated to unhealthy levels, and she felt only slightly better at the fact that the boys own core was hammering into her collarbone. She wheezed against his mouth, barely able to breath for many different reasons, including the stunting currents that were traveling through her sorely bent spine.

"Wha!" In a single swift move, the boy tore his lips from hers and careened backward onto his butt like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

"OH MY GOSH!!" he yelled, frantically clutching his head as if he had committed the worst possible sin in the universe.

Scrambling to his feet, he skittered up to Bijou. "I am so-so-so-so-so-so-so sooorrryyyy! This morning, my alarm clock went of reallyreally late, andIheardschoolstartsatlike7:00soIfreakedoutyouknowandrushedaroundcrazyandstuffbutmymomwasalllike'eatyourbreakfeastsweety'andIdidn'twanttheteacherstotearmelimbfromlimbonthefirstday,so. . ." He babbled on in complete nonsense, whisking his hands into indecipherable patterns as if they would help explain the infinite run-on sentence.

Not even listening one little bit, Bijou sat up without bothering to fix her rumpled skirt. Her left ribbon had become lopsided in the collision, but she didn't notice, continuing to stare in a burning line like she wasn't comprehending _anything _in front of her. Anything at all. . .

"-soIpromiseI'llmakemakeituptoyou miss. . . miss. . ." he trailed off, tracing a blank space on the air in front of him, boyish jaw hanging ajar.

"Bijou," she filled in breathlessly. The french girl began twirling her lopsided pigtail in a pinwheel, not blinking, possessed by the baby in the sun from Teletubbies. . . wait. . .

"Miss Bijou! S-So. . ." A crimson blush gradually bloomed upon his childishly rounded cheeks, the dimple on one side folding into an extremely apologetic smile.

"Will you forgive me?"

Bijou has left the building (and tripped over the potted fern on the way out . . .)

"Yes."

The boy's expression alit with untold happiness. "Really, you will?! Thanks a whole bunch of bananas!" he squealed with joy.

Bijou stared.

He held out his arms like he wanted to give her a big, friendly hug, but didn't.

"I'm Hamelton, nice to meet you! My moms an author and I like cooking and I've got a doggy and my best friend is Ox-"

The boy was excited to share any number of random life stories with a complete stranger until he was cut short by a very _unsettling _realization.

He weaved his spastic fingers through the orange bangs plastered to his forehead.

"Oh crud, Oxnard! I was supposed to save Oxnard a seat! Nuuuuu!!!"

Impulsively shooting past the hypnotized french girl he clumsily ducked around and waved at the living statue before barreling off the school path, which wasn't so barren anymore now that flocks of students who had slept in finally took responsibility and dragged their lazy bums out of bed.

Loosely adjusting the backpack that had cushioned her fall, Bijou stiffly rocked to her feet. She _could _have told Hamelton that class didn't start till 8:30, but right now there was something monumentally important at stake that was WAY too crucial to be ignored.

Bijou touched her numbly innocent lips.

_He tasted like orange juice._

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"Sandra, could you solve the equation on the board please?"

A gasp of a captured mouse escaped from Sandy, who was occupied with drawing two stick figures jump off a cliff in the corner of her notebook. About ready to beg one of the emo kids to slit her throat with the pocket knives she suspected were in their baggy jeans, she pushed out her chair in prolonged procrastination of her execution. The screech it hissed out rattled her bones.

_What's the missing side of the triangle? Your mom. _

Sandy gritted her teeth and shuffled to the front of the classroom. She turned around, expecting the students to be fiddling with homework for the next period, but was met with the devastating surprise of a million pairs of eyes drilling into her.

She cracked her grin wider.

"Kiiillll meeee," she murmured through her pathetically fake smile, mechanically turning to the white board and plucking a red marker from the metal rim.

_4 on the standy side and 3 on the footy side. Got it Einstein._

Sandy understood that, but not much else. There was some equation for this . . . uhhhhh . . . guh?

Her arm trembled, terrified that she would make a fatal mistake and have the entire class laugh at her stupidity. . . in their minds.

The brunette gnawed at her lower lip.

Raising her hand like she was going to actually write something, the cheerleader shot a desperate glance over her shoulder.

She did a double take.

Her lips parted into an 'o'.

Inconspicuously laid out on the desk behind her was an open notebook with the complete answer scrawled in large, neat, and most importantly, 'so easy to read a drunk monkey could do it', letters. Sandy could have measured the diagram with a axe-sharpened ruler and the triangle's edges would have been more flawlessly linear.

The perpetrator (which Sandy recognized as one of the kids she labeled 'nerd who can murder your paper mache volcano at the science fair') was whistling "I've Been Working on the Railroad" while tapping his pencil on the desk in what sounded like German morse code (or maybe it's Cantonese. . .).

His wandering eyes returned to her for a split second. He winked.

Sandy rejoiced, hearing the angels of salvation singing for her through the holy fluorescent ceiling lights.

_I, Sandra T. Hepburn, vow to never judge smart people again._

Mouthing a eternally grateful 'thank you' to the anonymous boy, she quickly memorized the contents of her cheat sheet and scribbled the final answer of '5 cm' beside the triangles hypotenuse.

"Correct. Very good job Sandra, I'm impressed. You even managed to make your blatant rip-off of Mr. Parker's notes look halfway passable." A smirk of pure evil dashed over the mute students and slapped Sandy raw across the face. It left a scarlet mark, which was swelling in a remarkable oil slick throughout Sandy's mortified expression.

"Especially for such a _rudimentary_ problem."

The class didn't even look mildly interested, but Sandy was flushing more at the fact that she had been caught in the act, and the teacher hadn't even spared her poor, math-despising soul.

_I hate Spat. I hate him with the passion of many man-eating lice._

Sandy swallowed a gob of saliva and remained in the same stance of a criminal at the interrogation wall. It was one of those situations where you were already so embarrassed, you had no more will to save yourself by simply scampering to your seat and burying your shameful face in the nearest textbook.

Spat, though that wasn't his _real _name (it was really Samuel Miller, which was _too _nice) had a common reputation throughout the five years he had taught at Hampston. He was vicious in his homework assignments, smacking down worksheet after worksheet of standard, but long and monotonous problems that made you want to take the table lamp and shine it in your eye sockets till you went blind as a bat and didn't have to look at them anymore. During particularly unfair exams, he would cackle at his prisoners as they struggled with the questions _without _a calculator or review. All the other faculty members (except Miss Harmony, which was freaky in its own right) avoided Spat like a deadly plague, knowing he would find _some _way to stab them in the back if they were seen doing _anything _out of the regulations. Rumor was that he was the reincarnation of the devil's child. With those sleazy eyebrows that reminded Sandy of Jingle's garden snake when he brought it to school for pets day and it almost bit Howdy's middle finger clean off the stub, Sandy could imagine Spat having relations with demons, or better yet, gargoyles.

"Mr. Miller . . . you've got pepperoni on your teeth."

"Where?!"

The hygiene-o-holic whipped around and scrubbed furiously at his spotless, gleaming choppers, peeking back to find the entire class staring at him like a pack of brainless zombies. Someone burped.

Their leader smiled.

"You barely missed it."

Spat hiked his fist a bit higher.

"A _little _more," the speaker urged on.

Higher.

"Hmmmm . . ." the leader drawled out, scratching his chin.

"What?!"

Parker strummed his chin, appearing to ponder something.

Spat bored his strangled irises into the suspense-fully idle boy.

Silence.

A tumble weed bounced outside the window.

Sandy burned so brightly she could have passed as Rudolph-the-Reindeer's missing nose.

"THERE!!!" Parker suddenly screamed, pointing in a piercing beacon at the wide-eyed teacher.

"HERE!"

Mr. Miller frantically socked himself clean in the jaw. The impact caused him to catapult into his swivel chair and ride a roller coaster through his stash of un-F-ified homework assignments and a stack of anvil-heavy text books. Materials exploded and fell like confetti all over his TV set and computer, raining a shower on the other side of the fence. Spat whirled uncontrollably around on a migraine inducing carousel.

By that time, Sandy was already filled to the brim with the mirth of guilty satisfaction, but the icing had already been spurted on the cake.

Spat crashed into the open supply closet with a vibrating _ba-kow. _It shuddered violently, creaking like a faithful old man before calming to a low mumble. Spat looked with one last trickle of hope as the shelves steadied themselves. They wobbled to a stop and Spat breathed a whistle of relief.

"Ha-Ha!" Mr. Miller sing-songed to the class.

The shelf moaned. Every set of peepers homed in on the closet.

Spat's eyes expanded into saucers of horror.

"Uh-Oh."

In an enormous groaning heave, the entire contents of the closet emptied from their posts and buried Spat in an avalanche of ball-point pens, Elmer's glue, _The Grudge _DVD's, toothpaste, Subway sandwiches (Eat Fresh!), and pitchforks. Afterwards, all that was left was a crumpled Spat spitting out strings of curses, a dog-pile of oddities, and a lone canister of golden glitter in the farthest confines of the closet. Couldn't bear to get itself down and dirty (girly, prissy glitter. . . you risk-defying scum).

The class erupted into cheers and ecstatic laughter. Some fell out of their chairs and writhed around the floor like armadillos, clutching their guts. Others slammed their fists with a beating rhythm on their binders, fountains of tears gushing down their cheeks.

Parker crossed his arms and smirked in triumph.

_Did . . . did he?_

Sandy nestled a curled hand into the printed letters of BEAT on her T-shirt.

"_Oops,_" Parker said sarcastically and shrugged at Sandy, floppy chocolate bangs bouncing innocently.

Sandy's hair ribbon rose happily. She grinned at Spat with her tongue lodged in her cheek and snickered as she slithered back to her seat without any ounce of attention from her incapacitated classmates. She practically expected Parker to hold out a hand for a rousing high-five, but he was reluctant to meet her gaze for some obscure reason.

_Revenge is such sweet sorrow. _

Eventually the wailing cries of the hysterical students subsided and they all fixed their toppled chairs and looked around with mutual embarrassment at their behavior. They had entirely forgotten Spat's merciless exploit of Sandy and snickered impishly as Mr. Miller dusted himself off and cleared his throat, glaring at them to shut their yaps or _someone _was going to be flayed and chopped into miniscule slices on the grill tonight.

"Well, after that _quite_ unfortunate escapade, your lucky your on the High Honors hall of fame Mr. Parker, or I would be inclined to give you detention for the remainder of the year." Slits of vengeance narrowed themselves at Parker, who blinked unflinchingly.

Hazel jumped to deep syrup. Parker noticed the interested leap and looked at Sandy curiously. She shook her head and her turned back over to the sizzling teacher.

_Oh my god! I don't know his first name? Wow . . . I hated math so much I only knew Chad, and that's because he writes suicide notes and hides them under the sink in the boys bathroom._ _911 has become Hampston's new calling card ever since._

Spat swept a probing laser throughout the room. "Now for serious business. Tomorrow you will be choosing partners to create a _to scale_ model of a national bridge using the properties of right triangles."

Carmen raised her hand.

"No Carmen, you may not do the duck pond. It would be rather difficult to replicate the living layers of mold and slime, don't you agree?"

Carmen sniffled and squeaked the bill of her hood, weeping for her ducklings. The adjacent comic-book geek patted her puke-yellow poncho with shared sympathy.

"I suggest you all choose carefully. We wouldn't want to jeopardize your perfectly well-deserved Z-minus averages," Spat winced a the thought of _reasonable_ A'sand B's_. _How utterly disgusting they were. Conveniently, he failed to see that Z-minuses only existed in his wildest dreams.

Immediately after, the lunch bell shattered the windows and the students herded out the door in masses like farm animals being called to the stables from another day of dragging plowshares.

Sandy hastily shoved her binder in her backpack and hoisted it over her shoulder without bothering to yank the zipper. She was about to follow her classmates lead, but was blocked by a hunched Parker, who had been halted by the bulging vein in Spat's hand.

The devilish teacher sheathed two fingers and jabbed them at his own eyes then ominously prodded them at the air hovering near Parker's down-turned nose.

Glowering with a sense of no good, Spat spun around on his heel and marched to the mountain behind his desk. He hauntingly preoccupied himself with chucking text books under the window-sill. The confrontation was peculiarly tame, but Sandy couldn't help the disturbing images from invading her active imagination.

Sandy carefully ambled behind her unforeseen savior. The cheerleader reached out to shake his arm and was momentarily daunted by how tall Parker was compared to her, even while slouching. He must have been over six feet!

_Somebody drinks their milk . . ._

She gingerly tapped the base of his neck and he let out a startled gag. Firing a curt nod at her, he anxiously exited out the door. Sandy picked up nervously squelching floor tiles through the wall and the irregular clobber of someone bolting down the stairs.

Sandy doinked her forehead to pack something away.

_Weird. He seemed so confident earlier._

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"OXY!"

Sandy instinctively zoned backward at Pepper's sudden outburst. Pashmina matched her movement, having recently been introduced to Sandy's barn flower friend.

The country girl's freckles whirred energetically as she dashed over and leaped into the unsteady embrace of a pudgy boy with a charming, bucktoothed smile. He wavered on his knees at the extra weight but held fast and sheepishly ruffled his cropped chrome haircut.

"H-Hi Pepper . . . I'm here . . ." He confirmed timidly, reaching out to feel the texture of her tightly knit braids.

Sandy picked up a nasal quality of his voice, the kind where it sounded like he had a cold 24/7. It had a characteristically endearing feature to it however, and the cheerleader could see how a girl like Pepper would be attracted to that sort of thing.

"Damn straight! You kept me waiting for an eternity you rascally weasel!" Pepper fisted one hand on her hip and bumped the other against his belly. He tilted wayward at the awkward touch, focus skating down the bridge of his face.

"S-Sorry . . . my dad g-got transferred to the General Electric in town a week ago," he mumbled softly to his frazzled girlfriend, fearing that she would punch a hole in his tender tummy and leave a bruise that would cultivate for weeks.

Pepper gathered in his injured puppy-dog act and adaptively changed her expression from that of a ticked off chick to that of a solemnly suffering lover.

She tangled her grip around his thick palm and brought it to their eye level, serenely entwining her short fingers through his pudgy ones and bringing a splash of rose to his features.

"_Sorry_ is fer squares."

"B-But . . ." He sputtered, thinking she was still angry with him.

"No buts," Pepper pressed her pointer finger to his pale lips.

Screen savers replaying the words 'CON-FU-SION' zoom across his face, indicating that Oxnard was completely at a loss of what to do as she steered him to face her dead center.

Boys could be so dense sometimes.

"Oh kiss me you fool!"

Without his bumbling permission, she yanked their mouths together, causing him to squawk and flap his arms from loss of balance. His baby gray eyes strained to not pop out from astonishment, but he melded to the familiarity of her plump little figure and closed his lids passionately, enveloping her muffin-top waist in a bear-hug.

Pashmina's hands fanned her scarf as she borderline hyperventilated at how cutely spicy the reunion had ended up. Hallmark movies were the fashionista's guilty pleasure, which Sandy figured out at a sleep-over after Pashmina stayed up until midnight on coffee and sour-patch kids 'cough'poormanscrack'cough' watching the second premiere of High Suck Musical.

"It's so beautiful! Eeeeeeee!!!!" She screamed obsessively, jiggling around like a maniacal fangirl, stealing the cocked eyebrows of a few onlookers.

Sandy rolled her eyes.

_What has this sickeningly corn-infested world come to? _

Pepper and Oxnard parted from their ironically brief moment of intimacy and tied their hands in a collage of speckles and white streaks. Eagerly delivering the goofily grinning boy over to an adamant Sandy who was being orbited by a grasshopper possessed Pashmina, Pepper leaned into Oxnards broad shoulder as if to officially reveal him as the boyfriend she had informed Sandy about.

Resisting the undying need to slap some maturity into her sadly lovable upperclassman, the athlete casually saluted Oxnard, dropping unnecessary formalities.

"Sandra T. Hepburn, at your service! Would you like fries with that?" While she said this her smile dropped to a glare, driving sideways.

She snatched Pashmina by the collar of he cardigan sweater, prompting the blonde to shut her yap abruptly from air deficiency. The older girl quacked, suffocating, and Sandy released her with a uncaring toss. Pashmina heaved in oxygen like she had just been chased by blood-thirsty bluebirds.

"Hee! Hoo! What- Haa! was that- Ghhhh! -for?"

"Fo' bein' an idiot," Sandy remarked offhandedly.

Pashmina pouted and coiled her lip at the linked hands of Pepper and Oxnard.

Sandy sighed and brushed her forehead to find the contagious signs of 'mortal insanity' fever stroke. Pashmina could be fatal in large doses.

"See you," Pashmina mumbled like a child in the naughty corner. She darted off to the library, which had been the group's original destination before the escapade in the hallway.

Pepper poked Oxnard in the chest. "Where's your partner in crime? Get maimed in a cat fight?" Cat fight was referring to the graphic brawl between Katie and Bianca, which Sandy and Pepper had the oh-so lovely pleasure of viewing in-between biology and M&M (Sandy's euphemism for you-know-what). The streaked brunette couldn't recall if it was about nicking lipstick or lip-gloss (aren't they the same thing?)

Oxnard furrowed his eyebrows. "Nah, I swear he said something about wrapping a gift? Dunno what it could be for. He kinda vanished the moment Mr. Bullock told us if we horsed around at the dance tonight, he'd make us wear a purple tu-tu and sing the national anthem while juggling rubber chickens."

Pepper shot to his completely serious expression.

"First of all, it's 'Boss'. Second . . ." Pepper searched for the right words.

"What the hell?" Sandy suggested.

Pepper waved at her agreeably. "Yeah, that's it."

Sandy checked her watch with a sudden onslaught of impatience, only to see the numbers 4:30 blinking at her teasingly.

_What?! A half-hour? I need a book for the weekend, or I'm gonna have a nice, juicy F painted on my non-existent report!_

Sandy hooked her arm around Pepper's neck and tried to lead the stumbling twosome to the library, but was hesitantly pushed away by Pepper.

The country girl nodded her head no. "Can't stay. Pop's needs help fixin' the chimney, and don't wanna wake up a corpse the next mornin' from the fumes."

She snatched Oxnard by the hips and shoved him in the doorway. Sandy had to side-step in order not to be crushed by the oncoming projectile that was Oxnard face-planting into the carpet.

Pepper flashed her teeth. "Why don't you chill with Sandy an' her demented pal? Bondin' is the first step to a crazy relatin' ship!" Sandy had to smirk at the thought of Pashmina having some degree of retarded-ness.

"See ya tonight!" Pepper smacked a kiss on her palm and blew it at the wiggling ostrich that was Oxnard as she sassily strolled out of sight.

Oxnard managed to roll himself right side-up, head turning in dizzy ovals. He rapidly snapped out of it and got to his feet.

"I guess I'll just be over . . . " He scrunched his face with puzzlement and magnetized around the room like a compass.

". . . there." He pointed at the action/adventure section and waddled into the aisle. Sandy doubted he had any clue where he was going. The chubby boy already struck her as the foreign culture (basically; FOOD) type.

Sandy tossed her load on a free wooden chair and looked down to find Bijou sitting with her legs crossed a foot away to the left.

"Bijou! Where've you been?" Sandy greeted cordially.

"Nowhere," was the stoic reply she got.

Sandy maneuvered around the table.

The cheerleader nudged frenchie's elbow. " You okay?"

Bijou's head moved a fraction of an inch and Sandy took it as a yes. The cheerleader was on time constraints.

Petting Bijou's fluffy hair with a unspoken concern, Sandy flowed away to find a novel for her book report, leaving Bijou to stare at the crowd of local computers. Only one was occupied, babbling clacks behind Jingle's intensely focused head.

_Oh yeah. His band iz playeeng tonight._

Bijou propped her chin up on the table, speculating whether the mohawked guitarist was off his usual drugs (he probably _wasn't _a stoner, but he sure looked like it most of the time), or there was a _really_ pretty girl on the other end of that monitor. 

Suddenly, a creamy blob of who knows what was thrust in front of her face and Bijou flew backward to avoid being slathered with the unknown substance.

"Hiya!" a voice chirped near her ear.

Almost falling out of her chair form the foreign jet of tic-tacs that entered her nose, Bijou whirled around and soared into a pair of bubbly blue eyes.

_Oh. My. Gosh._

Bijou's brain fizzled out and exploded, though her face looked as dead as ever. Her stomach flipped through universes and her heart threatened to stop beating, pounding with the strength of a rolling steam engine. Yeah... she was surprised.

Hamelton's childish hands poked her personal bubble with the squirmy substance.

"For you!" he confirmed.

Bijou's face twitched warily before she reached out to brush the rim of the plate. Now using about 1/10,000 of her brain, she could finally comprehend that the blob sitting in front of her was a vanilla cake, albeit not a very good-looking one.

". . .f-for me?" She repeated with the volume of a small bell.

Hamelton's oblivious grin spread wider. "Yup!" He definitely knew little about the complex mind of a woman. Namely, why girls prefer strawberries over apples. . . . . sorry, wrong explanation. . .

Slowly the french girl took it from his open hands and set it aside to take home later. She half-heartedly crossed her arms.

"Why?" was all that came out of her fake pout.

Suddenly embarrassed, his entrancing eyes left hers to shakily settle on Jingle's distracting mohawk.

"Uhhhhh, wee-llll. . ."

Bijou's suspicious lip grew harder.

Fingers brandished in defense, Hamelton tried to smile at her with as much sincerity as he could. Bijou could be pretty intimidating when she wanted to be.

"I felt really bad, okay? I did. . . _steal _something from you after all. I'm such a klutz, didn't even look where I was going. And I messed up your beautiful hair", he spoke truthfully. Unbeknownst to his underdeveloped intuition, Bijou was hanging on every word, especially the casual comment about her being beautiful.

_Beautiful, not cute. BEAUTIFUL, not cute._

Bijou's brain went boom again.

"Really? Thank you." She managed to spit out monotonously, despite her efforts to sound sexy and available. Unfortunately for Bijou, seductive temptress wasn't in her personality quota. Nor was the ability to stay cool under pressure.

Hamelton grasped at the feeble impressed air Bijou was giving off. "Sorry it doesn't look all that great, but I can guarantee a 100% sweet taste!"

"I'll try some when I get home." Bijou tossed her slender wrist, pretending that she was humoring him.

"Kay!"

The orange boy's expression fell blank onto Bijou.

"Say. . . would you mi-"

Finished with his mindless browsing, Oxnard poked his nose out from behind the bookcase. Cheeks escalating as he spotted something familiar, the chubby boy swung his arm.

"Yo Hamelton! I missed you this morning, bud!" he greeted amiably and bobbled over, unaware that he had caused an important interruption.

Hamelton sprung off the table. "Heeey Oxnard!" The two high-fived. "Did you get to see Pepper? I bet she's been first on your list since you got here", the shorter boy subtly teased, leaning his elbows into a chair.

Oxnard blushed, plunking his forehead on his palm. "Yeah. . . but guess what. . ." Changing the subject onto something Bijou didn't have the patience to listen to, she turned to examine her present as the boys chattered on.

While the cake was more potato than plum, Bijou still felt a feeling of enamored satisfaction pass through her veins every time her eyes dragged around the perimeter. Gathered from her limited knowledge of the plucky transfer student, she was certain that despite its haggard shell, the cakes center was probably more delicious than anything she had ever tasted.

Bijou licked her lips.

_Extremely delicious. . ._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_It's like the Alps, except without the entertainment. Skiing and watching people run into trees. _

A low grumble issued from Sandy's throat as her fingertips skimmed over endless titles marked with completely random numbers. She was currently lost in the Sci-fi section. As science and crazy radioactive aliens weren't exactly her forte, every operation and invasion novel was starting to look the same to her.

_They're so cheesy every one of them. Can't you authors get any new ideas? _Sandy mind-mumbled vehemently as she surfed the meager selection.

Passing through several books that could have crushed boulders, Sandy was becoming drowsy at how boring this task was. What was the big deal about this stupid assignment anyway? Weren't book reports for fourth graders? (Naturally, tiny tween Sandy did those last minute too)

Abruptly, her story detector bleeped and rolled to a halt at a seductively thin binding (_way _more sexy than Bijou). Excited at its breezy size, Sandy slid it carefully off the shelf and flipped over to its cover.

"A comic book," she commented to the colorful cover.

A group of very different teenagers stared up at her. One was even dressed like a goth, and she was sitting next to a jockish blondy! There was also a little girl who couldn't have been more than twelve years old.

_Runaways. This is a Marvel series!_

Sandy spiritually exclaimed as she looked over the summary on the back.

_Jackpot._

This was perfect! It wasn't like Miss Harmony had specified exactly what _kind _of book it had to be. And the story seemed kinda interesting too, in a bit of a geeky way. Quietly leaping for joy, Sandy tucked the book under her arm and made her way to the back section. It was always quiet there, and the couches were so relaxing to melt into once you had something addicting to read.

Just as she flung the paperback on the coffee table, Sandy remembered that she had left her assignment notice in her backpack. Anxious to get this over with she quickly walked back to the main lobby to get it.

"Aha!" she softly exclaimed, snatching her folder and notebook from the bags' confines. By now Bijou had left. Sandy caught the scent of her perfume lingering around.

Actually in the mood for constructive reading now, Sandy drifted back into the study lounge. But, just as she returned, she found that her english paper lifeline had vanished into thin air.

Frantically, the cheerleader checked everywhere including behind the couch, but all that attempted to cease her hearts pounding was a pair of dirty sneakers and a crumpled history speech.

Sandy covered her face.

_I am so screwed._


End file.
